“And go do some heart surgery? I think not. I have to get champagne however I can while I can still drink every once in a while.”
Eimear chuckled and slipped the dress back off, waiting awkwardly in her underwear for a moment as the now-familiar surge rose in her throat. She was nauseous, waving at Bronagh as she made a mad rush for the nearby bathroom. When she returned, the clerk was waiting with a new rack of dresses for her to try on. Bronagh stood up and brought her a mint to chew on while she worked her way into the next dress.
“Make sure you don’t get one too tight. That little bean in your belly needs room to breathe,” Bronagh teased.
“If he doesn’t keep making me throw up, I’m going to up his rent.”
Bronagh laughed and went back to sipping her champagne while the clerk helped with the next dress. She zipped Eimear up and waved toward the mirror for her to look at it. Eimear pivoted and stopped in her tracks. It was perfect. The lace of the top was form-fitted to her breasts but flared outward in slender waves of silk that would hide her growing bulge without making her look like a beached whale. She turned back around and held her hands out to her sides as Bronagh examined it.
“It’s gorgeous. I love it!” she cheered.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“We’ll take this one,” Eimear told the clerk.
“Are you sure that’s the one you want? We have some other lovely form-fitted ones that would be perfect on your figure,” she said.
“In case you missed it, my figure is rapidly expanding, so I’m going to go with this one,” Eimear told her.
The woman pursed her lips and nodded. Eimear knew it wasn’t about her choice of dresses; it was about the price tag hanging off of them. The clerk’s job was to upsell her for more commission, which was fine, but the dress she was in was the one she wanted, and if it was less expensive than the others, that was just a bonus.
Despite Fergus’s wealth, she still tried to pay for things herself whenever possible. What he did, what his family did, was like a different part of him that he kept away from her as much as possible. If she asked something, he would tell her, but he didn’t actively involve her in family business, and she didn’t relish spending money of unclear origins. He paid their living expenses, which she supposed made her complicit in some respects, but her bank accounts and purchases were separate, and he didn’t have an issue with that.
She’d even joked that she might be the only one who would not have their accounts frozen if the family was ever investigated, but it was a rare moment when he seemed to have no sense of humor about something. She had later apologized, realizing that what his family was involved in wasn’t something he was always thrilled to be a part of. She supposed it was hard to reconcile being an Alpha and a mafia don with being just a simple guy from Dublin.
She was so immersed in her thoughts and admiring the dress that she’d all but forgotten that the clerk was still speaking.
“What?” she asked.
“I said very well. I would say we should get you over for measurements, but this dress fits you perfectly. It’s as if it was meant for you,” the woman said, checking her over to make sure there were no puckers or uncomfortable dimples. “Nope. It needs nothing but the bride.”
“Wonderful. Can we take it with us now?”
“Absolutely.”
Eimear hated taking it off again as she slipped out of it and gave it to the clerk to ring up for them, handing her American Express card to the woman. She sat with Bronagh, sipping some sparkling water while they waited. The woman returned with her card and handed her a receipt to sign. Eimear tipped her generously to make up for her possible losses in commission, and she handed her the dress zipped up in a protective bag for the trip home.
“Thank you so much,” the woman told her. “I hope your day is beautiful, and if you do expand too much before the wedding, please come back and see us. The dress can be let out to some extent if needed.”
“I appreciate that. Let’s hope I don’t get that out of hand before then,” Eimear said, taking the dress from her and leaving.
She looked over to find Bronagh had nabbed the bottle of champagne and stuck it in her purse, the top sticking up outside the open zipper.
“Bronagh! You can’t just haul champagne out in your purse!”
“I believe I did. It’s not like they can give it to anyone else once they’ve opened it and given it to us. It’s a health hazard.”